Fatherly Instinct
by Waiting-for-a-mad-man-in-221b
Summary: A series of one shots about the life of Hamish Watson-Holmes. Parentlock/AU/Slash.
1. Fatherly Instinct

"Why won't you eat?" Sherlock asked as the infant spit out yet another spoonful of the pureed green slop that John had left him. Hamish giggled at Sherlock's frustration. "Please, please eat. I'm begging you!" He tried another spoonful only for it to be spit into Hamish's hand and rubbed all over the table of his highchair.

The boy smiled up at his father and laughed again. "You think you're very cute don't you? Well I'll let you in on a secret, you're not." He said tossing the spoon in the bowl and abandoning the green slime. He stormed into the living room leaving Hamish in his high chair as he went to call for Mrs. Hudson, she'd know how to get the kid to eat. Hopefully.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

"Oh what is it now Sherlock?" She still sounded annoyed from earlier when he'd asked her how to make a bottle. John had taken a year off of work when Hamish was born, and it was only Sherlock's first day alone with Hamish how was he to be expected to know how to do everything.

"I can't get him to eat!"

"Oh dear, alright I'll be there in a second." She met Sherlock at the top of the stairs and they both made their way back into the kitchen where the found Hamish with the spoon in his mouth. A quarter of the green slime was gone and Hamish kept shoveling more and more into his mouth. "Looks like he's doing a fine job on his own eh?" Sherlock beamed at his son. He felt so proud, it was strange. Being proud of being able to feed yourself? That's not something logical to be proud of, but he was.

"Look who's getting their fatherly instinct! Took you long enough!" Mrs. Hudson said as she retreated down stairs. Sherlock sat in front of Hamish watching him lifting the spoon to his mouth over and over. Sherlock gave him a smile and Hamish danced in his seat, his black curls bounced they were only partially caked with the pureed peas.

When Hamish was done Sherlock wiped the food from his son's face and hands, and lifted him from his seat. He was struck with a terrible smell. "Oh god Hamish that is horrible. Oh lord I have to change you don't I? Remind me again why your dad thought it was good idea to go back to work!"

"Because we need money Sherlock." John said sneaking up behind his husband and their son. A smile spread over Hamish's tiny round face.

"Oh good you're home! Here he needs to be changed." He held Hamish out at arms length to John.

"No I've been changing his nappies for a year, you can give it a go!" He went into their room to change leaving Sherlock with Hamish and his full diaper to take care of.

"Well let's 'give it ago' shall we?" He said carrying Hamish up to his bedroom, John's old bedroom; he placed him on the hand-me-down changing table that had once been his and Mycroft's.

Hamish wiggled around on the table under Sherlock's hand that kept him from rolling off as he gathered the nappie and the wipes. Sherlock placed the supplies behind Hamish's head and removed his nappie, he had seen John do it a million times, and wrapped the little sticky flaps around the rest of it.

Hamish began to roll under Sherlock's hand. Sherlock quickly rolled his son back over only to have Hamish pee right in his face. "Thank you for that Hamish." He sighed wiping the pee from his face.

He wiped him as quickly as possible, lifting his legs to slip the nappie underneath. He pulled the tabs making them meet in the middle. He re-did the snaps on his onesie and then lifted him up; he started bouncing happily on the changing table.

"Well I guess it wasn't that bad. But don't tell your dad I said that." he said whispering the last part. Hamish smiled and began babbling, reaching out towards Sherlock wanting to be held. Sherlock scooped him up, making his way back down the stairs.

"How did it go?" John asked as Sherlock stepped into the living room.

"Your son peed on me." He replied plopping Hamish down in front of his toys where he began to make an obscene amount of noise.

"Oh he's my son now because he peed on you?"

"Well he sure isn't mine after that stunt." He said turning to his husband, smiling at him. He felt a certain appreciation for John after the day he had had with Hamish. "I can't believe how hard it was." Sherlock said shaking his head. "Just getting him to eat was nearly impossible. I'm sorry I haven't helped you more with him."

John took his husbands hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. "I know that I kind of forced you into the kid thing, and I know how busy you are with your cases, I just want him to know how much you love him. Because I know you do, I see how proud you are of him. I just wanted you to spend time with him, get to know him better."

"Oh I got to know him quite well today! Did you know that he could feed himself?"

"No kidding? He fed himself today? He's never done that before." John looked at their son, who was now stacking his multicolored blocks as high as he could reach, with such pride.

"You're amazing." Sherlock said to him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead. John was shocked by the compliment.

"So are you." He said burying his face in Sherlock's neck, kissing it lightly. He sighed closing his eyes, so content with the day. Sherlock's head rested on his. He nearly fell asleep like that when Hamish interrupted with a high-pitched squeal and accompanying laughter as he looked up lovingly at his fathers.


	2. Toddling

They watched together as Hamish stood, he barely came two and a half feet off the floor, but he was still considered tall for his age of one. He wobbled a bit, still not used to his own two feet. He tried to lift his right one to move forward, attempting his first steps on his own, but his bare foot just skidded over the carpet and he soon found him self back on the floor, having caught himself with his hands he began to crawl to his dads instead.

"I really thought he had it that time." Sherlock said disappointed, he was more excited for Hamish to walk than John was. Actually it wasn't that he was more excited about it, it was that he was far more impatient. John knew that these things took time; Sherlock thought Hamish should have been able to walk as soon as he stood.

"Well now this gives us time to get the camera ready. We should keep it on the higher coffee table so that it we'll be able to get it quickly." Sherlock just nodded and lifted Hamish off the floor; placing him on his right hip Hamish legs startled either side of Sherlock. "You know I think that me going back to work was the best thing I have ever done."

"And why do you say that?" He asked still looking down at his sons face as Hamish reached up to play with Sherlock's black curls. He wound them around his finger, tugging just hard enough that Sherlock winced, Hamish giggled at that.

"Look it how good you've gotten with him. Just a few short weeks and you don't even whine when I ask you to change his diaper anymore."

"Well I'm not going to let the poor boy sit in his own filth am I? What do you think Hamish? Am I doing a better job?" Hamish smiled revealing a row of new shiny white baby teeth, two on the top and four on the bottom. _He's growing up so fast_, Sherlock knew the thought was far too sentimental but it was true. He had never wanted children before, but John's continuous nagging had caused him to cave. And he was glad he did, he didn't know what life would be like without his boy now, and he didn't want to.

"See so we're both in agreement so it must be true."

"However improbable." Sherlock added under his breath.

"Oh stop it." John said making his husband face him. "You're a great father. You just needed an extra push that was all. You can't honestly say that you haven't seen a difference in the way he acts around you these past few weeks. He's nuts for you! See you just needed to give him a little more attention."

Hamish squirmed to be put down, Sherlock obliged setting his son down on his feet, only for Hamish to plop right on his bum. He scooted over to his toys selecting his favorite, which was a child's magnifying glass. He used it to look at his others toys, selecting his teddy bear first he looked at its fur, amazed by how many strings there were. After smirking at his son Sherlock turned to look at John, smiling at him he moved into give him a light peck on the forehead.

"Thank you." He said.

"Your welcome. I know you love him and you'd do anything for him and that's all I can ask. Except that I can also ask you to go get the camera." John's eyes widened a little bit as he looked past Sherlock to view Hamish.

"Can I get it later? I'd like to work on the chemical that I found on the bottom of Mr. Fredrick's shoe, I'm so close to figuring it out! Once I know I'll be able to tell is if was the ex wife or the new wife's ex husband."

"Sherlock stop talking and go get the bloody camera." Sherlock turned at the urgency in John's voice, he was greeted with the image of his son wobbling slightly as he stepped forward once… twice! He stood there regaining his balance, giving Sherlock just enough time to retrieve the camera from on top of the TV. He switched it on, looking through the viewfinder as Hamish began to toddle again. He put one foot in front of the other, padding his way across the living room carpet in the direction of his fathers.

"That's it Hamish keep coming you can do it!" Sherlock encouraged his son as he took half steps backwards every time Hamish would catch up to him. He kept the camera trained on the toddler the whole time, he was considered a toddler now wasn't he? Eventually Sherlock bumped into the wall leading out of the living room and into what was now Hamish's nursery. When Hamish reached him Sherlock scooped him up and swung him around. He'd never felt so proud of anyone in his life.

John ran over to join his husband and their son in a group hug, which is one thing they have never done before. Hamish squealed joyfully as both of his parents attacked him with kisses, and cheered for him.

"That was brilliant Hamish! Oh god, that was amazing. I can't believe he just walked! Please tell me you got the whole this on video."

"Of course I did. Oh god, I've never been so proud, is that weird?" Sherlock questioned as he raised Hamish over his head, having handed John the camera for safekeeping.

"No, it's completely normal, that's how every dad feels. I told you all you needed was a little extra push." Sherlock's only answer was a one sided grin as he brought Hamish back down and buried him close to his chest. Squeezing him as tight as he possibly could without hurting him. He placed a kiss on top of his black curls. John joined them again, doing the same. And after they had each gave their son a kiss on the cheek, making him giggle like crazy, they shared a kiss. Letting it linger slightly. This was really Hamish's first milestone. (Well if you don't count the unintelligible gurgles as first words.) They were so lucky that they got to share this incredible moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Someone said they were wondering how Hamish came to be, this answers that question a little without going too far into detail. **

* * *

"Blow out the candles Ham!" John instructed the now two year old, Hamish Watson-Holmes, by pretending to blow them out himself. Hamish leaned forward in his high chair opening his mouth to blow out his birthday candles only to have his tongue get stuck between his teeth, making spit go everywhere. At least he managed to blow them out.

John cut the cake giving the first piece of the double vanilla cake to his son, who promptly dug in with his hands. He served up pieces for himself, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson. They ate quietly as they all watched in amusement as Hamish mashed the cake into something unrecognizable before he started to actually eat it.

The rest of the night was spent opening presents. Hamish would smile, his little pearly baby toothed smile with every new present. His icy blue eyes would light up as John or Sherlock handed him each toy, fresh from the package.

After an two or so hours of playing with his new toys Hamish stretched and yawned, his eyelids drooping. He returned to his toys though, obviously trying to fight the fatigue and stay up late to play with all of his exciting new trucks and blocks and books! Lots and lots of books, and he was obviously determined to rip through all of them tonight. Handing one after the other to either John or Sherlock. Alternating between the two.

"Time for bed Hamish." Sherlock said lifting the toddler from where he sat on his lap and pulling him into his chest in order to rub circles on his back. It always helped him to fall asleep, but tonight he wasn't having it.

"No!" But his body deceived him as his face stretched into a yawn.

"Your toys and books will all be here when you wake up Hamish, don't worry." The toddler humphed, his head hitting Sherlock's shoulder and falling to the side. Sherlock didn't dare move until he heard the loud even sleepy breaths coming from his son.

He got up as gently as he could; he made his way up the stairs. He skipped the fourth step, which always creaked. Separating Hamish from his shoulder he placed him carefully in his crib. He swiped his, too long, black curls from in front of his eyes, placing his favorite lovie next to his hand. Feeling the familiar terry cloth texture Hamish quickly snatched the lovie, bringing it up to his face.

"Remember when we first brought him home?" Sherlock turned, frightened at someone talking to him. He'd been so mesmerized by his little boy, that was growing up far too quickly for his liking, to hear John enter the room. "He was amazingly small, I thought I was going to break him. You wouldn't even touch him. I still don't know if that was out of fear or if you were still uncomfortable with the whole kid thing." John chuckled lightly. He leaned over the crib bar, placing a gentle kiss on top of Hamish's curls.

"It was neither." Sherlock said before turning on his heel and taking off quickly down the stairs.

"You alright?" John inquired as he took his seat next to Sherlock on the couch; he leaned against the arm so he could face his husband. He noticed that look in Sherlock's eyes, the one he'd seen so many times before. That self-loathing look. "Tell me." He said more forcefully.

"I wasn't scared about hurting him. I was afraid that I already had." Sherlock sighed, letting his shoulders drop. Releasing the tension of his secret, the one he'd been keeping from the beginning. "When I first saw him, well it was obvious he was mine. Black curls and blue eyes. I had hoped and prayed for him to be yours. He could be normal. He could be personable, and kind and tolerant and everything I love about you. I didn't want him to be called freak, or weirdo like I was. I knew there was a fifty/fifty chance but I never imagined raising a little me. I had always pictured him as a little you. The first few months I didn't want to get close. Maybe of I stayed away and let you raise him he would have a chance. I realized that that was completely

Unfair to you, and I'm sorry, I know those are the hardest months and I was all but absent. I just wanted him to be like you John. I wanted him to be perfect. And he is."

"Why did you never tell me?" John asked scooting closer to the detective. He placed a hand on his shoulder, making him look up from where his eyes were planted on the floor.

_The whole process was hell for them. They were turned down for countless adoptions. Some seemed promising and some were doomed from the start. The last one seemed particularly promising, and that's why it hurt so much when they were turned down yet again. _

"_Don't be a fool John, people are much more open to homosexuality than sociopaths. You should go by yourself next time, they'll be much more likely to approve." _

"_Don't be stupid Sherlock, I'm not going to go without you. We will find someone." _

"You were so eager for a child, and we kept getting turned down because of me. When you asked if I'd supply my sperm along with yours for the surrogate I felt like I owed it to you. Like I said, I always pictured our child being like you. But Hamish _is_ like you. He's the best of each of us, I couldn't ask for anything better."

"It's weird that you say that you always pictured our child being like me, because I always pictured them like you. Brilliant and charming and just perfect. Though not as much of a jackass." They both chuckled, keeping it quite not wanting to wake up Hamish. "And you're right, he is the best of both of us. But that could all change."

"Ah yes the terrible twos. That's what they're referred to aren't they?"

"Yes, I wonder what's so terrible about them."

"I guess we'll find out." Sherlock gave a one sided smile, grabbing John's hand and leading him back into their room where they quickly fell asleep, resting up for what was sure to be terrible twos.


	4. Chapter 4

"Daddy! Father!" John woke with a start at hearing his son scream for him from up stairs, Sherlock was already sat up and tightening his robe around his waist before het got up to attend to their boy. John caught up to him putting a hand on his shoulder to make him stop and turn and face him.

"You want me to handle this?" He asked knowing Sherlock wasn't the best at comforting.

"I can handle it. Don't doubt yourself, you've taught me well John Watson-Holmes." They shared a smile before turning back and heading upstairs to see what was the matter with their boy.

"I had a bad dream." The 4-year-old Hamish said as his dad took a seat at the foot of his bed while his father kneeled down next to him.

"What was the dream about Hamish?" Sherlock asked, obviously something horrible. Hamish's black curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was breathing heavily, pupils slightly dilated.

"It was that man. The one in the pictures Uncle Greg showed you yesterday."

"What is he talking about?" John's question was directed towards the detective.

"Father took me on my very first case!" Hamish answered for him, his eyes lighting up for a moment obviously still excited about the fact that his father thought he was old enough to go on cases now. John glared at his husband who only looked away, obviously hurt by John's disapproval. "But then Uncle Greg took out pictures of who Father thought was the murder, and well I dreamed that he came after me."

John gathered the boy's tiny hand in his own, Hamish looked up from where he was starring at his navy blue duvet to look at his dad. "No one is coming after you Hamish. Your father and I won't allow it."

"That's right." Sherlock told him, trying to redeem himself. "Now go back to sleep ."

They tucked Hamish back in, each placing a kiss on their boy's head before the made their way down the stairs into their room so they would be out of earshot.

"You took him on a case?" John exclaimed in his signature 'I can't believe a genius could do something so stupid' tone.

"Yes well you were in surgery and Greg needed me, Mrs. Hudson is out of town what was I supposed to do?"

John took a deep breath trying to stop himself screaming. "You know you've probably scared the poor boy for life? Mycroft is just down the street you could have had him babysit!"

Sherlock chuckled deeply at that. "And you think the case scared him?"

"I'm trying to be serious here Sherlock." He groaned.

"So am I, trust me. You didn't have to grow up with him." He stalked over to his chair picked up his violin and began to pluck the strings before he guided the bow over them. He played one of Hamish's favorites, just something he did when Hamish couldn't sleep, it would always put the boy right down.

"Sherlock just promise me that you'll talk to him tomorrow? Just make sure he's ok and tell him that no one is going to come after him." Sherlock turned around from where he was looking out the window into the darkness of 3am London to look at John. He dragged the bow over a long and sweet last note before placing his beloved violin on his chair before he answered his husband's request.

"Of course I will, and he'll be fine. You'll see."

"Now Hamish," Sherlock started. The boy sat across from him in John's usual armchair, elbows on knees head propped on his hands, listening intently to his father. "You do realize that Mr. Miller has been arrested and can't come after you, yes?" Hamish's face scrunched up.

"What's arrested mean?"

"It means he's been put away for a very long time because he did something bad."

"Like a time out? 'Cause daddy makes me sit in the corner when I'm bad."

"Well it's kind of like a time out only it can last for years." Hamish's eyes widened at the prospect of a time out that lasted beyond 20 minutes.

"So… he won't be able to get me ever?"

"No Hamish he will never be able to get you. No one will ever get you because your dad and I are here to protect you. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Now I have a question." Sherlock braced himself for a question about the case. Something that had to with murder or something gruesome that would also plague his son's nightmares. "Since I'm not scared of Mr. Miller anymore could I go on more cases with you and daddy?"

"You don't mind the blood?"

"Not at all! It was fascinating!" Sherlock let a small smile tug at one side of his mouth. Sherlock could see more and more of himself in Hamish everyday. With his curls nearing shoulder length, his bright blue eyes and his massive intellect for a boy of his age. He couldn't have asked for a better son.

"Tell you what," Sherlock paused getting up and grabbing the boy's hand dragging him into his and John's room where John sat on their bed reading his book. Sherlock picked up Hamish plopping him right next to John who dog-eared the page he was on before setting down his book. "Why don't you ask dad about this one."

After a long discussion of the dos and don'ts while at crime scenes, and many "yes I know"s and "but daaaaad"s John agreed that he could go on some of the more shall we say tame cases. Which he later explained to Sherlock meant no drugs, no mutilation, and absolutely nothing to do with heights.

"He's just like you ya know." John said later that night as they were just settling into bed. Sherlock gazed sleepily at him from where his head rested on his pillow.

"I know… it's terrifying." John laughed and Sherlock joined him after a second.

"Oh god Greg is going to kill you." John said after he regained him composure."

"Kill me? You said yes to it, it's part of your problem too." John frowned, Greg was definitely going to kill them.


End file.
